Targeting the King (1)
The Cult cruiser had touched down atop the forest, a fair distance from the nest I had established.
After landing, I sent the eight survivors out of the situation room to clear away the corpses strewn across the deck.
I threaded my erosion tentacles into the inner reaches of the situation room and sucked the bodies in one by one — and that was when I noticed something odd.
The Knowledge Keeper is missing?
The Knowledge Keeper served as a Cult warship's core adjutant and chief engineer.
Be fitting for a species gifted with psychic power, the Cult could transmit records and information stored in computers directly into an individual's mind. That was why the Cult had no centralized intelligence agency — nothing like Mega Corp's data archives or the Star Union's Starlink database.
If anything, the Prophet Assembly — one of the Empire's three great seats of power — came closest to filling that role.
At any rate, the Knowledge Keepers aboard a ship were the ones who acquired the various information needed for a voyage: combat data, flight routes, ship structure, the movements of the Empire and rival factions, and so on.
Where other factions relied heavily on the performance of a ship's computers, the Cult operated differently — computer and Knowledge Keeper worked in tandem to steer the vessel.
As far as I know, every cruiser carries one without exception.
They often went unassigned to patrol ships, but any military vessel of destroyer class or larger had one aboard.
Yet among the corpses sprawled across the situation room, the Knowledge Keeper was absent.
[Zzzzzzzzz zzzzz (Where is the Knowledge Keeper?)]
"Hm? I pinned them down with Ice Evil Spirit earlier. They should be in the situation room."
Mother of the Sky answered my wavelength the moment I pulsed it.
She was currently in another section of the ship, hunting for any equipment worth looting. I ransacked the bodies again after hearing her out, but the Keeper was nowhere to be found.
Physically, a Knowledge Keeper looked identical to any other Cultist — the only difference was a special badge worn on the clothing. It was shaped like the eye of the Cult, and the community often nicknamed them "Illuminati."
Is the corpse mixed in with the others? I can't find it.
I was rifling through the clothing of the corpses one by one when PS-111, who had been hovering around the computer, spoke to me.
"Is something the matter, sir?"
[Zzzz zzzzz zzz zzz (A corpse wearing an eye-shaped badge)]
"I consumed that one before 'Amorph' arrived."
[Zzz zzzzzz zzz (You ate it? When?)]
"While 'Middle Baby' was working on the computer. I did not recognize the target as important. I apologize."
PS-111 bowed her head in apology.
Why now, of all times? She's never done this before.
She was forever clamoring about energy resupply, but she had never once laid hands on prey before I gave the word. She was a special unit, yes, but she was still bound by mechanical control — the odds of a genuine mistake seemed low.
Besides, her voice was the same synthesized female tone laced with mechanical undertones as always, yet something about it felt subtly different.
Hm.
I studied her. The face of PS-111, a being half machine, betrayed no change. But the voice — and even that blank expression — carried a different feel.
Forcing myself to describe what had seeped into the surface of that pristine white face...
Emotion?
She had once shown a sullen look when No. 26 scolded her, but back then it had felt strongly artificial — a machine performing an expression to match a given situation.
Now, she looked far more human.
A machine with humanity in it, huh.
She was a new-model Screamer and a commander-class unit besides, which granted her relatively high autonomy. Because of that, I couldn't say whether this change was part of her design, or the beginning of her becoming something new.
She reminds me of No. 26.
I had wrestled with a similar question not long after meeting her. Back then, I had chosen to watch and wait — and that decision had paid off enormously in the end.
I'll keep an eye on her a little longer.
If she truly meant to deceive me, there were far better ways than this clumsy half-measure. The fact that she hadn't bothered meant, I judged, she bore me no ill intent.
After a moment's deliberation, I decided to let PS-111's "mistake" slide.
[Zzzzzzz zzzzzz (Just be more careful next time)]
"Thank you."
With that, the matter of the Knowledge Keeper was closed, and I resumed swallowing corpses with my erosion tentacles. Before long, I had cleared them all and emerged from the cruiser alongside PS-111.
"Big Baby and friend are out!"
"What took you so long?"
[Zzzz zzzzz zzzzz (I had something to take care of)]
Outside, Mother of the Sky and No. 26 were waiting for us.
Mother of the Sky had lashed straps to a Demolisher and slung it over her right shoulder, with a Champion Shield strapped to her left forearm. She looked every bit like a Temple Guard — minus the Dragon Scale armor.
Wolves couldn't wear ordinary protective gear, only equipment made from special materials. The reason was their shapeshifting ability itself: a Wolf's body swelled to at least double its size in transformation, and its frame changed shape entirely, so any normal outfit would be shredded in seconds.
Beside her, No. 26 held a backpack stuffed to bursting with loot in her tentacles.
[Zzzz zzzzz zzzzzz (Then let's head back to the nest)]
"Flap-flap flying?"
[Zzz (Yeah)]
"Haa..."
No. 26 was as fond of flying as ever. When I lowered my body into a crouch, she bounced up onto my back. Mother of the Sky — whose name notwithstanding, took no pleasure in flight — let out a sigh and followed in No. 26's wake.
With PS-111 aboard as well, I lifted off into the sky.
Rest at the nest for a bit, then go after new prey.
Now that my existence was known, a clash with the Gallagons wasn't far off. Whichever pack it was, they would try to exclude me.
The black Gallagon pack that had cast out Adhai would hardly welcome a new competitor. Ham Ort had met me before, and with our arrangement in place she wouldn't attack outright — but that was no cause for complacency. If anything, she might grow warier, suspecting I had designs on Adhai.
I'd planned to prepare much more, but there's no helping it.
A Gallagon pack was an enemy as demanding as any player. I had intended to gather ten or more APEX traits before tackling one, but the plan would have to change.
I'll settle the Sharkbear and that creature first.
A being that, since its birth, had never once descended to the ground.
A proud, transcendent existence known as the whale of space.
The Skywhale.
"Lord of the Red Forest" "Died?"
At the unbelievable news, the queen of pure white asked again, and the white Gallagon bowed her head in confirmation.
The King had been alive and well mere days ago — how could he have died so suddenly? Ham Ort could not make sense of the situation.
"Oude Grad" "Murdered him?"
"Nel Germa" "Deny" "King" "Already" "Deceased"
She asked in case it was so, but of course it wasn't.
"Corpse" "Retrieved"
All the white female Nel Germa produced was a wing fragment left behind by the Lord of the Red Forest. At the sight of it, Ham Ort barely suppressed the sigh rising in her chest.
A fragment this small meant nothing. Which meant somewhere on this planet, they would have to seek out another red king.
"Ham Ort" "Commands" "New Lord of the Red Forest" "Search for it"
"Nel Germa" "Oppose" "Kin" "Weary" "Rest" "Needed"
For a young one to argue with her matriarch was unthinkable — and Nel Germa, moreover, was one of the most obedient of her kin. If even she was raising objections, the situation had to be dire indeed.
More than that, Ham Ort had risen against Oude Grad precisely because she despised how he drove their kin to exhaustion. If she now forced this command through, she would become no different from him.
"Ham Ort" "Revise" "Nel Germa" "Kin" "Rest well"
"Gratitude"
Having sent Nel Germa off, Ham Ort's mind raced.
The time allotted to her was running out. For now, that cruel black dragon was indulging his caprice and leaving them be, but no one knew how long his whims would last.
If Oude Grad moved now, many of their kin would die. Even if she offered her own life to stop it.
And so, before that day came, she had to make the Daughter of the Shooting Star their savior — as fast as possible. Ham Ort carried the wing fragment into the nest.
In the vast cavern, a single small member of her kind lay resting.
Grass-green scales, a body smaller than even the water-hued young ones, a plump tail — a distinctive creature among her kin. She was none other than Adhai, Daughter of the Shooting Star.
Different from their first meeting: small white specks, like the pebbles scattered across the cavern floor, had appeared along her wings. She raised her head.
"Red Forest Lord" "Death?"
"It is so"
Adhai spoke as though she had already known everything.
Recently, she had been practicing the fine manipulation of her psychic power. Her sensing range now stretched beyond the cavern itself, reaching all the way to the forest outside.
As a mother, nothing could delight her more than a daughter's growth — yet Ham Ort couldn't simply rejoice. Because Adhai, given the slightest opening, thought of nothing but escaping from her.
"Big Adult" "Hunt" "Certain"
"Ham Ort" "Deny" "Lord of the Red Forest" "Not weak" "Ugly kin" "Hunt" "Impossible"
She had been saying the same thing ever since Ham Ort had gone to great lengths to fetch her the corpse of the Serpent King. Ham Ort knew exactly who this "Big Adult" Adhai spoke of was.
The ugly creature that had been with Adhai when she was first found.
As far as Ham Ort remembered, the "Big Adult" was a being so bizarre she couldn't be sure it truly was one of their kind. If it hadn't communicated in a manner similar to Gallagons, she would have mistaken it for an entirely different species.
To be fair, the imposing horns on its head were nothing to scoff at — but that was all. Its frame was small, and it hadn't looked especially strong. That the Daughter of the Shooting Star traveled with such a frail creature was a miracle in itself; that she had survived this long was nothing short of astonishing.
"Kin" "Form" "Cannot change" "Daughter of the Shooting Star" "Mistaken"
"Not so" "Ham Ort" "Wrong" "Does not know" "At all" "Does not know"
The sheer insolence of it made the urge to strike her well up, but Ham Ort forced it down. She tossed the wing fragment at Adhai's feet.
As Adhai gripped the fragment in her forepaws and began nibbling at it with her tentacles, Ham Ort delivered her message.
"Eat" "After eating" "A place to go"
"A place to go?"
Eating the Lord of the Red Forest right now was impossible. So they would move up what needed to be done and handle it first.
"King of the Sky" "We hunt it"
"King of the Sky?"
"Ham Ort" "Daughter of the Shooting Star" "Comes along"
If Adhai devoured the King of the Sky, she would rise in a single bound to a level rivaling Ham Ort herself. And so Ham Ort had decided to gamble.
That her daughter truly was the savior.
That she would achieve the goal.
A cavern boiling with geothermal heat.
The floor was carpeted in every manner of rare mineral and gemstone, while the walls and ceiling hung heavy with fruit that gave off a fragrant sweetness.
In the very center of that cavern — lavish to a degree rarely seen in nature — lay the master of black.
Though the creature slept with its long body coiled into a ring, it still radiated a crushing presence.
Six curved horns grew from its head, and its wings spread vast as stormclouds heavy with rain. Its legs and body were packed with dense, corded muscle, and its claws were as keen as lightning amid a tempest.
He was the Black King — the Great Oude Grad.
As he did at any other time, he slumbered, body propped upon the geothermal warmth. Today, however, was slightly different: though he was unmistakably asleep, his tail twitched in discomfort.
Before long, his head snapped up. The cavern shook violently as the enormous body moved.
"What was that?"
Oude Grad's eyes wavered with unease before slowly regaining their composure. He had been having a nightmare.
In the dream, he had seen it.
One of his own kin rushing at him and cutting his throat.
Even the sight of his severed head falling away mid-flight was vivid — and yet, strangely, the being that wielded the blade remained blurred.
Whether it was large or small, nothing about it was clear. Only one thing was certain: the creature's body was black.
"...The future?"
Oude Grad possessed one very special ability.
He could glimpse the future — through prophetic dreams like this one, or through visions.
Ever since he'd become aware of his gift, he had always steered himself away from the dark futures it revealed. Had he not, surviving this long would have been impossible.
At present, only a single being in existence could molt into black scales.
The white female who had risen against him.
Oude Grad had been quietly working some scheme to keep his kin from ever "growing." Somehow, through means he could not fathom, that impudent female had discovered the conditions for molting without his knowledge.
Prophetic dreams showed only futures not yet made real. Judging by precedent, considerable time would pass before the dream crystallized into reality. The white female, then, was most likely still in the midst of her molt.
Oude Grad called in the mate waiting outside. When the white mate entered, he issued his command.
"Oude Grad" "Commands" "All the kin" "Make ready" "The traitors" "Shall be erased"
The waiting was over.
It was time to execute the traitors he had so long left to fester.